


The Name's Snow (Simon Snow)

by twokisses



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/pseuds/twokisses
Summary: Spies AU! In which Simon and Baz work for rival agencies, and have an encounter at a fancy house party hosted by their shared target.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 18
Kudos: 192
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	The Name's Snow (Simon Snow)

**Author's Note:**

> i have wanted to write a snowbaz spies AU for aaaagggeeesss. so here you go!!! i hope you guys enjoy this.

Simon Snow has never liked having to wear a suit on the job.

For one thing, he always feels like a right toff in one. Like one of his hotshot higher-ups, the ones who didn't take a second glance at him the whole first two months after he was recruited. He's not them. He doesn't want to be.

On the more practical side of things, suits are also pretty shit in action. The agency does its best, with their custom tailors and fancy technology, to make them more breathable, more flexible around the joints. But Simon would prefer his standard-issue field clothes any day - black pullover, black pants, black boots, the first two made of the same stretchy material and equipped with so many pockets Simon is still figuring out uses for all of them.

He'll get back to wearing those for the next mission. For now though, he once again pulls irritably at the cuff of his sleeve - trying to relieve some of the pressure on his arm from the stiff material as well as the gun strapped tight underneath it - and focuses his attention on other things. Namely, Sid Humphrey, the target of his mission.

It's taken no small effort on Simon's part, keeping track of him in this ballroom-sized hall Sid calls his sitting room. Not only is the whole place done up in gold everything (reflecting the light so brilliantly it's making Simon half-blind), but it's also full of people. Other men and women in fancy dress, sipping from wine glasses and moving from group to group, chatting about God knows what. _World domination, probably,_ Simon thinks. They might all look like they've never heard of employment in their lives, but Simon knows for a fact that at least half of them (once the plus-ones have been discounted) have. Oh, they have. It's very likely that many of them had literal blood on their hands hours ago.

But none of them are as deadly as the man Simon is keeping his eye on, the man who's currently (and who has been, unfailingly) surrounded by an impenetrable circle of guests right in the centre of the room. Sid may be small in size and unassuming in looks, but he's a snake. He's been the main pain in the neck of Simon's agency for the past year - sweeping through the city, making deals with undesirables and draining the resources of the people who live there, lawfully. He's like an insidious black hole. 

As he's observing the man from across the room, a high-pitched beep sounds right in Simon's ear. He reaches up and discreetly engages his earpiece, and Penny's voice crackles to life immediately, tinny and sharp: 

"Where's Sid?" 

She's currently stationed in a van off the estate, monitoring the situation through her impressive array of computers.

"Same place as earlier," Simon says. "He's not moved a single step. Everyone just comes _to_ him." The frustration in his voice must be obvious.

"Patience," Penny murmurs. Simon can tell from the tone of her voice that she's half-occupied by other things. He hears some tapping, then a hum. "He should be leaving soon, though. Something about a scheduled screening in another one of his rooms. Maybe a home theatre?"

"Fucking nobs." Simon shakes his head, letting his gaze wander from Sid and over the rest of the house guests. "What, are these people shitting money?"

"Don't be gross." Simon can practically see the grimace on Penny's face.

"I'm just saying. Where else could it - " Simon's voice cuts off as his stare catches on someone across the room. Someone very, very familiar. 

"Fuck," he says, emphatically.

"What?" Penny asks. Then another time, when Simon doesn't respond fast enough for her, "What?"

"Speak of the filthy rich," Simon says lowly. "Pitch is here."

Sitting on one of the stools at the long, mahogany bar spanning the opposite wall. Wearing a spotless suit and tie in the classic, gleaming black and white. His hair slicked back from his forehead, shining as distractingly as his shoes. He has a champagne glass in the hand he's resting against the bar, the other draped languidly over one knee.

Baz Pitch.

 _"What?"_ Penny says, again, and Simon wonders if something went wrong with the transmission, but then she says, "What is he doing here?"

"Fuck if I know." Simon's still staring. Baz looks unbearably posh. So bloody put-together, as always. He's got his head turned slightly away from where Sid Humphrey is socialising, but his eyes are definitely on him. He looks like a large cat laying in wait for its prey.

"What could Natasha want with Sid?" Penny continues. Baz's mother, Natasha, is the one who calls the shots at his agency. "I don't think Sid's messed up any of their territories yet. Unless they want information? But - "

 _"Penny."_ She doesn't stop once she's started puzzling over a problem. Simon needs to stop her now if he wants his head in one piece for the rest of the night. "It doesn't matter. We'll be wasting our energy trying to figure him out now."

Simon can hear the pained reluctance in her voice as she says: "Right. We can talk about this back at HQ."

"Right," Simon agrees. "Focus on our objective."

 _Focus,_ he says, half as a reminder to himself as well. He can already feel his blood heating up at the sight of Baz. His being here is going to make his job tonight _so_ much more difficult than it was already.

As if he can hear Simon's thoughts, Baz's gaze drags away from Sid and trails over the room, skimming the guests' faces in an arc moving in Simon’s direction. Simon feels it like an electric shock down his spine when Baz’s eyes meet his - cool and grey and sharp as a knife. Simon waits for the surprise on his face - he wants the satisfaction of shocking Baz by being here as much as Baz shocked him. 

But it doesn't appear. All he gets is the raising of a brow, a quirk at the corner of Baz's mouth. Baz raises his glass of champagne to Simon. He already knew Simon was there.

That gets under Simon's skin.

If there’s anything he really hates, it’s being second-best to Baz. Which means he’s hating a lot of the time. Baz is an elite at his agency, and not just because he’s Natasha’s son. He’s fast, and smart, and extremely competitive, a cocktail of traits making up a truly formidable agent. Simon knows from experience.

He lifts his chin in response. It’s a challenge, and Baz’s smile gets wider at it.

“Simon,” Penny says, urgent. “Sid is leaving the room.”

At the exact same moment, Simon sees Baz’s gaze shoot back over to where Sid was standing. The person in his ear (probably Fiona - Natasha’s right-hand woman and also Baz’s aunt) must have told him similar news. Simon looks as well. Sid has indeed left his circle of admirers and started making his way to one of the exits on one end of the room. _Fucking finally,_ Simon thinks.

“Go,” Penny says, and Simon’s eyes dart back to Baz. He’s already being looked at. Baz holds eye contact as he downs his champagne, sets it on the bar, and smooths down his crease-free jacket. Then he looks Simon up and down - it’s just a flick of the eyes from this distance - and cocks his head towards the exit Sid is now leaving through. Simon understands his message loud and clear.

_May the best man win._

_“Simon,"_ Penny urges. _“Go.”_

“Going,” Simon says, and he is.

He loses track of Baz as he weaves his way through the throng of guests, and that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t need any distractions right now. Penny’s voice is a constant presence in his ear, directing him through dizzyingly huge rooms and endless paneled hallways. Simon knows that his position is being marked as a moving red dot on one of her screens. Sid’s would be in blue.

“Left,” she says, and Simon dutifully makes a left, right into another identical gold hallway. (Sid may be wealthy, but he apparently doesn’t have the taste to flaunt it properly. Simon’s going to trip over his own feet once he re-emerges into the light later - his eyes have been adjusted to so much shine.) 

“Keep going,” Penny urges. “Straight on.” Simon moves quickly, trying to keep the sound of his footsteps to a tap. “Turn right at the end. He’s - ” And then Penny’s voice falls away into silence, and Simon’s strides slow.

“Penny?” he whispers.

“He’s - ” Penny sounds woefully puzzled. “He’s gone.”

It takes Simon two seconds to sprint to the end of the hallway and turn to his right. The hallway that stretches away from him is completely unobstructed by anybody, and it ends in a blank wall. No exits.

“What?”

It’s not Simon who says it. He spins around, and finds Baz standing right behind him, looking similarly confused. And frustrated. Simon feels a little better at that - it means Fiona has been led just as far off as Penny has. Baz’s gaze falls to Simon’s - he’s always been taller than Simon - and he shakes his head slightly at him, as if asking, _Well?_

“Lost him,” Simon says shortly. Baz groans and turns away, then turns back, a hand running through his hair. It messes up some of the careful styling, and a few locks fall over his cheeks.

“Fiona,” Baz says (Simon was right about it being her, then), “He’s gone.”

Penny asks: “Simon, did he get rid of the tracker?”

Simon walks a few steps up the hall, scanning the floor. “No. There’s nothing here.”

Penny curses. “Stay where you are. I’m going to try and get him back online.”

“Alright,” Baz says, the timing matching so perfectly with Penny’s statement that it takes Simon a moment to realise he’s talking to Fiona. Simon turns his back on the dead end to look at Baz. He’s got a hand resting against his ear, and he’s looking at Simon too.

“Trying to relocate him?” Simon asks.

Baz dips his head in a nod. “I’m assuming Bunce is doing the same.”

“Yeah.”

Then they’re standing and staring at each other. There’s a silence, untouched by either of them nor the women in their ears (or, at least, on Simon’s side), for a few seconds. 

It’s a few seconds too long. A few seconds of them alone together is dangerous. Baz is eyeing Simon in a certain way Simon recognises. Simon feels a small jab of concern that he’s going to pose a serious distraction to Simon from his job, but then he realises: the job has been put on hold.

Simon says, “Penny, you’ll beep me if you get Sid back online, right?”

Baz’s eyes shoot up to his. 

Penny says: “Simon, you’re on the job.”

“Not right at this moment.” 

Baz has started murmuring something into his collar. His eyes haven’t left Simon’s.

Penny groans, because she knows she won’t win. “I beep, you answer _immediately_ ,” she says, as threateningly as she can. Simon smiles.

“Of course.”

Then he disengages his earpiece. A few steps away from him, Baz appears to do the same.

They’re crashing into each other a moment later.

Baz’s mouth on his is the sweetest relief Simon has gotten all day. He makes a noise that would be, frankly, embarrassing, if Baz weren’t kissing him just as fervently. It’s messy and desperate - Simon’s hands are in Baz’s hair, and Baz’s hands are restless over Simon’s sides and back. He walks Simon backwards until Simon’s shoulders hit one of the walls, then presses into him, so they’re touching from lips to chest to knees.

Simon breaks away to breathe, and say, “I didn’t know you’d be here today.” 

Baz just kisses him in reply, and Simon lets him. Lets him take away his words for a second. It’s so good. It’s terrifyingly good. But he shouldn’t be surprised - it always is.

He pulls back again, eventually, and means to ask, _Why_ are _you here?_ But all he can manage is “Why?”

Baz gets it anyway. He doesn’t answer him, though. “Shh,” he says, eyes warm on Simon’s mouth. “No business with pleasure.” His teeth catch at Simon’s bottom lip and tug. Simon groans.

“I’ve missed you,” Simon says, instead. And this, finally, makes Baz pause. 

His face is inches away from Simon’s. This close, Simon can see the texture in the pattern of Baz’s eyes - strokes of whitish-grey spreading out from the pupils like the lines from a paintbrush. (The grey of his irises has shrunk into a thin band, to accommodate his dilated pupils. The sight does things to Simon.)

Simon wonders why he’s usually the first to lead their heated encounters into softer territory. It’s not as if he’s amazing with words. He is much more straightforward with his feelings, though. There’s something (if there is anything) that Baz is worse at than him.

Baz’s breathing is slowing. His eyes flicker down to Simon’s mouth, then back up. The look in them has twisted and changed. This one makes Simon’s knees go a little weak, and he’s grateful for the support of the wall at his back. “I’ve missed you too,” Baz murmurs, finally, almost right up against Simon’s lips. They’re practically breathing each other’s air now.

Simon’s hands are still knotted up in Baz’s hair. He lets one of them go slack and pull through the silky strands. Baz’s eyelids droop at the sensation.

“I wish...” Simon says, and Baz shakes his head. He knows what Simon is going to say, because they both say it every time. 

_I wish we didn’t have to be a secret. I wish our agencies weren’t competing for every single thing. I wish I could see you outside of moments like this, that we didn’t have to steal time with each other._

“I know,” Baz whispers. “So do I.”

“Fucking Romeo and Juliet business.”

“Yeah,” Baz agrees. His nose nudges against Simon’s jaw. Simon lifts his chin obligingly and sighs as Baz begins pressing kisses down his neck. “Star-crossed lovers, all that.”

“We could run away together,” Simon suggests. That makes Baz chuckle against his skin, which tickles. Simon’s shoulder comes up by reflex and sort of knocks Baz in the cheek. Baz presses his whole face against Simon’s neck in retaliation, and Simon laughs out loud before he can contain it.

“What would we do, Snow? Become guns for hire? That’s the worst kind of degradation there is.”

“Stop calling me Snow,” Simon says.

“Make me.”

Simon makes it so Baz doesn’t get a chance to call him anything. 

A few blissful minutes later, Baz puts a hand to his jaw and pulls away. He reaches up with his other and switches on his earpiece again. It must have beeped. He turns his head to the side as he listens.

“Fiona’s got a lead,” he tells Simon. There’s something smug returning to the curve of his lips that Simon wants to kiss off, but Baz is already retreating from him, smoothing down his jacket (which is, finally, a little bit creased). “No signal from Bunce?” he asks. Taunts, more like.

“No,” Simon says, and it sounds too much like a grumble. Baz grins.

“Cheer up, Snow.” He reaches a hand out and gently knocks Simon’s chin up. Simon catches his wrist in his hand and keeps it there. Baz’s eyes get softer again. “I’ll see you?” he asks, the lift in his intonation at the end making his uncertainty clear. It’s sweet. 

“Friday,” Simon confirms. “Rooftop.”

Baz brushes a finger up Simon’s cheek. “I’ll see you,” he repeats. And this time it’s not a question.

Simon watches him as he leaves. (He could just track Baz from here, until Penny gets back into contact with him. He probably should.) He notes the ruffled hair Baz hasn’t quite succeeded in smoothing down, the slight indents in the shoulders of his suit where Simon gripped at them earlier. The sight makes something warm and proud curl up in his chest. It makes his heart beat in a slow, satisfied rhythm.

Friday can't come fast enough.

**Author's Note:**

> for more of my snowbaz content (and older fics), find me on tumblr @sbazzing!


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